


Mirror Image

by National_Nobody



Series: Bluepulse Week 2020 [3]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Accidental Dating, Bluepulse Week 2020, Day 6: Past/Future, First Kiss, Getting Together, Jaime Reyes is a bi disaster, M/M, Tim Drake is so tired, Time Travel Shenanigans, but otherwise G, does this count as a crack fic?, possibly should be rated T for language tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/National_Nobody/pseuds/National_Nobody
Summary: Bluepulse Week 2020 Day 6 - Past/FutureThe Zetas whirred with a bright flash of light, transferring them instantly across the country with a lurch. Bart stepped out easily, used to the strange feeling by now. Jaime turned to him again.“—My point is,” Jaime started, then jumped, an alarm blaring loudly around them.“Error, error—Kid Flash and Blue Beetle already inside. Initiating lockdown.”Update: Bonus chapter added 9/29/20
Relationships: Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes
Series: Bluepulse Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799878
Comments: 26
Kudos: 140





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a very different plan for Day 6 (& 7) originally, but both ideas ended up turning into slightly more involved fics, so I decided to close out Bluepulse week on a shorter, sillier note instead. Also I jotted this down in like two hours so forgive me if it's a little unpolished--I just wanted to sneak it in before Bluepulse week completely came to an end!
> 
> Enjoy!

“But, _dude!”_ Bart whined, following Jaime up to the dilapidated telephone box. “It was Gar’s idea, not mine!”

Jaime rolled his eyes at him, typing in the access code for the Hub’s Zeta tube.

“Tonto, you really think I care _whose_ idea it was?” Jaime asked exasperatedly, stepping up to the scanner.

_Recognize: Blue Beetle, B22._

Bart stepped into place beside him.

_Recognize: Kid Flash B23._

The Zetas whirred with a bright flash of light, transferring them instantly across the country with a lurch. Bart stepped out easily, used to the strange feeling by now. Jaime turned to him again.

“—My point is,” Jaime started, then jumped, an alarm blaring loudly around them.

_“Error, error—Kid Flash and Blue Beetle already inside. Initiating lockdown.”_

Adrenaline surged through Bart's veins as he immediately crouched into a defensive stance. Jaime’s wings snapped out, both their heads on the swivel.

Then Jaime made a curious face, staring blankly into the middle distance the way he often did when the scarab was talking to him.

“Khaji that can’t be—” Jaime murmured quietly. Then Tim’s familiar, annoyed groan echoed from across the room.

“Reverse lockdown! Authorization Beta two zero, priority alpha, sort under tracheyon inconsistencies.”

Bart exchanged a tense, perplexed look with Jaime, who merely shook his head, equally lost.

“—Tracheyon inconsistencies?” Another _weirdly_ familiar voice piped up. “Wow, our Tim just sorts it under ‘time fuckery.’ How retro.”

Bart’s blood ran cold, his head whipping around. Jaime’s hand snapped automatically into a plasma cannon.

They looked at each other again, clearly thinking the same thing but also not understanding how it was _possible_ , then crept forward slowly, trying to get a glimpse of the situation before whoever was talking could take note of their actual position.

“‘Time fuckery?’” Tim drawled. “Seriously?”

Bart could just barely see Tim now in the conference room, working on who-knew-what on his holopad.

“Hey, they’re your words not mine, Timbo,” the familiar voice spoke again cheerfully. Tim shot whoever it was a Look.

“Do you _want_ to do this yourself?”

“— _No_ , he does not,” _another_ creepily familiar voice sighed, sounding tired. “Also you should probably say something to them before younger me let’s other Khaji do something rash.”

Jaime froze in place just in front of Bart. Tim glanced over his shoulder at them.

“Oh, boy,” Tim sighed. At last, the other two figures peered around the doorway to see them as well.

Bart’s heart slammed to a halt in his chest.

_Jaime’s hair is longer_ , was what immediately popped into his head.

Why his brain decided _that_ was the most important detail to supply him with first, he did not want to stop and acknowledge, but he suddenly found it very, very difficult to look away, his stomach doing a series of weird flips he could and would not be held responsible for.

That wasn’t the only obvious difference, either. The armor was the same, extending up to Older Jaime’s neck, but his chest had filled out more—not anywhere near to the extent Bart remembered from his moded future, to his relief, but enough that Bart had to actively remember to breathe correctly.

Bart had also totally balked at the idea, the last time Jaime mused about trying to grow out his facial hair, but now, staring at the dark, neatly trimmed beard covering the strong lines of Jaime’s jaw he was suddenly, quite hurriedly, revising that opinion.

_Ohwowokayyikesyephewasabouttobesomodedwasn’the?_

“Aw, ba—uh, Blue, look!” Older Him grinned, stepping more clearly into view. “Yeesh, I forgot I was ever so tiny.”

Bart blinked stupidly at himself, simultaneously validated and disturbed to note that Older Him had to be at least 5’11” with broader shoulders, shorter hair, and a cooler all-red costume to boot.

It _probably_ should’ve been obvious as soon as the error message went off but, _doppelgangers?_ Or, like, future versions of themselves? Here? Right now??? _Really?_

Plain as day though, there they were, standing around the table in the conference room with Tim at the head of it.

He hesitantly crept closer with Jaime following behind him, not quite able to decide whether the sight of them was kind of crash or just extremely _weird_.

“ _I_ didn’t,” Older Jaime said with obvious amusement, shooting a smirk at Older Him. Older Him stuck his tongue out.

“Yes, boo-hoo, I _get_ _it_. You haven’t been able to use my head as an armrest in _ages_ , poor you,” Older Him teased.

“Ay, sí. Simpler times,” Older Jaime sighed wistfully.

“Uh...” _his_ Jaime started weakly, glancing back and forth between them as he and Bart reached the doorway. “Anyone mind explaining what the hell is going on in here?”

_“It’s a long story,”_ Tim and the older versions of themselves all said in unison.

“Ha! Jinx,” Older Him pointed at Older Jaime with a wide grin. Older Jaime knocked his finger away with a look that Bart was _all_ too familiar with.

“Dios, this is so weird,” Jaime muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I second that,” Bart piped up, voice cracking squeakily.

“Aw, don’t worry your handsome little head about it, Baby Blue,” Older Him said assuredly, zooming around the table to sling an arm around Jaime’s stiffening shoulders and pat him on the head. “Timmy’s almost got things locked and loaded for us to head back, so just pretend you saw nothing and go about your business.”

The bemused look on Jaime’s face as he looked _up_ at Older Him was so hilarious that Bart wanted to laugh, but he was a little too busy still gaping.

“Oh!” Older Him straightened up suddenly, like he’d just been struck by a brilliant revelation. “Hang on, don’t send us back yet! There’s something I wanna do first!”

“Wait, _Bart_ —” Older Jaime called out, panicked, but Older Him had already vanished back through the Zeta Tubes.

Bart blinked, staring after him. Huh, so that’s what that felt like.

Older Jaime muttered something to himself in Spanish, burying his face in his hand.

“Well,” Tim said mildly, “I guess it's good to know _some_ stuff never changes.” He looked pointedly at Bart.

Bart crossed his arms, pouting. “Hey!”

“I—what?” Jaime tried again, looking like he had so many questions he barely knew where to start.

Tim started to open his mouth to answer him, but before he could even begin, the alarm was already blaring as, once again, the Zeta system tried to lock itself down because of the duplicate authentication.

Tim tilted his head back longsufferingly, and barked out the same order _again_.

“Sorry! Just really wanted to say hi to Jay and Joan,” Older Bart explained, breezing back over to Older Jaime’s side.

Tim and Older Jaime blanched.

“You did _what?_ ” Tim spluttered at the same time as Older Jaime groaned _“¿Por qué harías eso?_ _”_

“Oh, lighten up,” Older Him waved away their concern. “It was no biggie! I just zoomed in, gave them each a hug and left!”

Older Jaime brought his hand to his face again. “Ay dios mío, mi cielo, this is _exactly why_ Double R said we shouldn’t trust you near alternate universes.”

Bart felt Jaime freeze up beside him. Concerned, he snuck a curious glance in his direction. It was hard to tell with the armor covering Jaime’s face, but there was definitely a different type of shock exuding off him.

“Um, _excuse you_ , it worked out pretty dang well the _first_ time Mr. Not Evil, as you might remember.” Older Bart poked Older Jaime in the center of his chest.

“Alternate universes?” Tim’s brow furrowed, looking between the two. “I thought you said you time traveled?”

The older boys both shrugged, once again speaking in sync, “Same difference.”

“You know what?” Jaime muttered hoarsely, “I’m out. This is too trippy. I’m going to lie down and pretend this was a fever dream or something.”

Older Bart nodded sagely. “Probably for the best, babe—uh, Blue, Baby Blue. Y’knowsmallpastBluethat’stotallynot—”

Older Jaime's hand shot up to cover Older Bart’s mouth with a grimace. “Realmente necesitas dejar de hablar mi amo— _uh,_ amigo,” Older Jaime scrambled.

_“Hm!”_ Older Bart pointed a triumphant, accusatory finger at Older Jaime again. “ _Ee? Ur js s bd!”_ he exclaimed, entirely muffled to the point of being unintelligible. Not that it seemed to hinder Older Jaime’s understanding, considering the warning look he shot back at him.

Bart blinked at the two of them again, running a hand through his hair as his muddled brain tried desperately to parse through all this. He was definitely starting to feel the mode trying to keep up with this weirdness. Maybe his Jaime had the right idea.

When he looked over to said best friend though, he once again looked like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on him. Yeesh, and he’d only made it about five steps, too. Bart really wished he knew what the heck was being said that had him so shaken. Older Jaime was glancing at his younger self too, looking sheepish.

“Okay,” Tim said, sounding confident as he gave a last couple of taps to his holopad. “Based on what you told me, I think this should do it.”

“Aynk ood—mm,” Older Bart wrestled Older Jaime’s hand away and started again. “Thank _goodness_. Although, I’ll be honest, I do kinda wish we could stay and reminisce a little.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Jaime mused with the beginnings of a smirk, “Now that I’m seeing it again, I’m kinda thinking maybe I _should_ finally cut my hair short again.”

Older Bart looked appalled.

Bart definitely related.

“ _O-_ kay, y’know what? Nevermind, we’re out of here,” Older Bart tugged Older Jaime to his feet immediately. Older Jaime laughed, looking at Older Bart in a way that made Bart’s chest constrict.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he almost felt a little… _jealous_.

He shook himself inwardly.

_Don’t be stupid_ , he chided himself. _You already have your_ own _Jaime who’s your best friend._

Then his eyes drifted down to their hands.

“Well, nice chatting with you Timmy,” Older Him said breezily, ruffling Tim’s hair on the way by as he dragged Older Jaime toward the Zetas. “‘Bye, baby us,” he added with a cheerful little salute in Bart and Jaime’s direction.

Bart was too busy staring at the older boys' interlocking fingers to answer, something like butterflies mixed with boiling lava coursing through him and making his heart hammer crookedly against his ribs.

_Recognized: Blue Beetle, B22. Kid Flash B23._

...And just like that, they were gone. Like nothing completely brain-breaking had just come and shaken Bart’s entire existence.

There was silence for a beat, then, “Um…Rob?” Bart croaked, face on fire. “AmIactuallytotallylosingitor—”

“ _No_ , Bart,” Tim sighed, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. “That really did just happen.”

“Oh,” Bart said, small, because he really had _no idea_ how to deal with that information.

Tim squeezed his shoulder on the way by. “Just go to bed, both of you. I’ll explain everything later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
>  _¿Por qué harías eso?_ \- Why would you do that??  
>  _mi cielo_ \- a sweet pet name, literally 'my sky' (hence younger Jaime's sudden bi panic)  
>  _Realmente necesitas dejar de hablar mi amo—uh, amigo_ \- You really need to stop talking my lo--uh, friend  
>  _Hm! Ee? Ur js s bd!_ \- Ha! See? You're just as bad!
> 
> TL;DR:  
> Jaime with his mid 2000s-era comics hair: *exists*  
> Bart Allen: *instant gay panic*
> 
> Hope you all had a good Bluepulse week!! I'll upload the prompts that I started but didn't finish in time later on.
> 
> -NN


	2. Bonus Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was originally planned as a super quick oneshot, but then [Bright_Elen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen) mentioned wanting to see the fallout and I was like....y'know what? Sure, why not. So, here you go.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Bart stared up at the ceiling, wide awake.

It wasn’t actually _his_ room in the Hub, so to speak. Gar left a couple extra rooms open so that if anyone else ever needed to live there, the Outsiders would have room to grow. Bart almost always used this same one though, when he did stay, and he and Cassie had decorated the ceiling above the bed with a bunch of glow-in-the-dark stars.

He knew Tim was right. It was late. They had an early mission the next day, which was the whole reason they’d come to the Hub in the first place. He should sleep.

Easier said than done though when his mind kept wandering back to the same image of red-gloved and blue-armored fingers, interlinked.

With a frustrated sigh, he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, then let his arms fall wide, trying to breathe in steady and slow. He stared up again, counting those glowing stars over and over in the hope that, eventually, his eyelids would start to droop.

He finally gave up somewhere around 372.

Rolling off the bed altogether, he zipped quietly to the kitchen to scrounge around for anything that could provide a helpful distraction.

He found Jaime sitting on the countertop instead.

Bart’s stomach squirmed, but he tried to play it casual as he pulled open the fridge door and grabbed the first soda he saw. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Jaime jumped, head swiveling to him. Bart’s heart stuttered as their eyes met.

“Oh,” Jaime realized, relaxing against the cabinets again. “Dios, guepardo. Don’t startle me like that.”

“Sorry,” Bart rubbed his neck. “I didn’t think anyone else would be in here.”

“No pasa nada.” Jaime shrugged, tipping his head back against the cabinet door. “Like you said, couldn’t sleep.”

Bart nodded, pulling out one of the kitchen stools and perching on the edge of it as he took a swig of his drink.

Jaime pursed his lips hesitantly. “I, uh, looked at Tim’s write up.” Bart looked up, surprised.

“Yeah?” his voice nearly cracked. “What’d it say?”

Jaime stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, looking toward the conference room.

“Apparently they—or uh, we?” His brow furrowed like it still hurt his brain to think too much about it. “The other KF and Blue Beetle, anyway. They were helping another meta that was displaced in time get back to their own reality and got a little lost along the way. So, that’s how they ended up here.”

“Really?” A disbelieving breath puffed past his lips. “Huh. That's actually _super_ dangerous. I'm surprised the other you would even volunteer to _try_ that.”

Jaime snorted, looking indignantly at him. “Hey!"

Bart’s lips flicked up into a grin. “What? I bet all Jaimes are a stick in the mud. It’s a universal constant!”

 _“Wow._ Am I about to throw hands with a fifteen year old right now?” Jaime shook his head, hopping off the counter and walking over to him. “If _anything’s_ a universal constant, it’s _you_ dragging my ass into trouble I didn’t ask for,” he said, poking Bart in the stomach.

Bart laughed, catching Jaime’s hand.

It was only a second or two that Bart held it, still grinning up at his best friend like he’d done a million times before. Something had changed, though. He could see it in Jaime’s face: an almost embarrassed look that he tried to cover up by gently pulling his hand back and using it to swipe a sip of Bart’s drink.

Bart’s heart clenched nervously. _He_ felt awkward too, to be fair. It would be a weird situation no matter what. Knowing too much about your future self was just like that. _Was_ Jaime just feeling awkward though, or did it honestly freak him out, the idea of them maybe being…

He swallowed. The _last_ thing he wanted was for this to suddenly make Jaime want to avoid him for the next who-knew-how-many days. This didn’t _have_ to make things weird, after all. It was basically just math—one possibility out of trillions!

It didn’t _have_ to mean anything in the here and now...if Jaime didn’t want it to.

He watched in slow motion as Jaime put the drink down, trying to come up with _something_ he could say that might put him at ease. Coming up blank, he instead blurted out the first normal-sounding thing that popped into his head.

“You wanna get milkshakes?”

Jaime blinked.

“What?” he asked, the slightest flush appearing on his cheeks.

Bart shrugged. “We’re up, aren’t we? And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think sleep is coming anytime soon. _So,_ why not get milkshakes? There’s always a diner open _somewhere.”_

Jaime hesitated as he held his gaze, probably weighing the benefits of how crash milkshakes were compared to how much they’d end up regretting the sleep they were losing come tomorrow (see: stick in the mud).

Thankfully for Bart though, the deliciousness of milkshakes must have won out. Jaime patted his pockets to check for his wallet, then shrugged shyly at him.

“Okay.”

+

The nighttime air was mild compared to the heat of the day, flitting comfortably across Bart’s bare arms and shins. He hadn't bothered to change before they left, still wearing the same cotton t-shirt and basketball shorts he’d worn to bed. Jaime hadn't changed either, but was still in the hoodie and jeans he’d arrived at the Hub in. Guess he hadn't even tried getting ready for bed before giving up on sleep.

They walked in sync beside each other, meandering two blocks down from the Premiere Building and spilling out onto the star-lined sidewalks of Hollywood Boulevard.

“Hol-ly-wood!” Bart spread his arms open with a grin. “Man, this new base is so crash. I’m kinda surprised we haven’t had any celebrity sightings yet.”

“Do we count?” Jaime asked dryly. “With Gar’s whole Outsiders campaign, we’re even more in the public eye than usual.”

“Good point. Quick, Blue, keep your eyes peeled for paparazzi,” Bart swung his head back and forth, squinting suspiciously at every passerby. “Tim says some of them know parkour.” Jaime snorted.

“So, where we headed?” Jaime asked. Bart shrugged.

“I dunno, I figured we haven’t explored much, so. First diner we see?”

“We’re in the middle of the Hollywood Walk of Fame, chiquito,” Jaime said, gesturing to the the many squat, disparate buildings all strung together in one long line, filling the entirety of the block. Each glowed with brightly lit windows and flashy, tourist-enticing signs, advertising kitschy museums, fast food restaurants, soon-to-be closing shops, and quickly crowding bars. “It’s not really like that here. If you want a milkshake, we’re more likely to pass a Shake Shake before a _diner.”_

Bart scoffed, pulling out his phone. “Where’s your sense of adventure? I bet there’s _something.”_

A quick google search proved him right, a location pin popping up on the map just a ten minute walk away.

“Ha! See? Come on,” Bart grabbed Jaime’s wrist and dragged him.

The diner wasn’t far off the beaten path—and even if it had been, the enormous flashing sign sitting boldly in the parking lot would’ve made it hard to miss.

“Alright, you win,” Jaime said, glancing up at the sign. Bart smirked and held the door open.

If they thought the outside was neon and cheery, the inside was even more so. Bart was taken aback at first, used to the tiny, squeeze-to-get-by-you set-ups scattered throughout Central City. Though just as 50’s-era-inspired in terms of its style, the inside of _this_ place was huge with dozens of tables, the space split roughly in half by two lines of green nylon booths capped by a curved, u-shaped counter.

It looked even bigger for the fact that there weren’t many customers still lingering about.

“Ooo!” Bart nudged Jaime’s side in excitement, leaning close to whisper. “Look, they even have one of those old soda fountain things! How retro.”

“Thought you wanted a milkshake,” Jaime tilted his head as well to whisper back, their cheeks nearly brushing.

“I _do,_ but it’s still _crash,_ ” Bart said, the _‘doi’_ implied in his tone as he stepped away up to the host station.

He could sense Jaime's smile and head shake, but resisted turning around to see.

The hostess looked up as Bart approached, fixing him with a polite smile.

“Hi, welcome,” she said. “Are you here for take-out? The kitchen is closing up soon.”

“Oh!” Bart startled. “Sure, sorry! Didn’t realize. We were just hoping for a couple of milkshakes, but—”

“Oh, sure, that’s easy enough,” the hostess waved away his concern, flipping open a menu to the correct page and holding it out. “Here.” Bart took it with a grateful smile.

Jaime came up close behind him to glance at the menu over his shoulder. Bart's heart skipped.

_Think non-futurey, platonic thoughts. Think non-futurey, platonic thoughts._

“Let me guess, you’re going for strawberry,” Jaime nudged Bart’s hip knowingly, his breath warm by Bart’s cheek. Bart’s stomach fluttered.

“Well, doi,” he grinned, making a truly heroic effort, in his opinion, to resist leaning back into Jaime’s chest. “You?”

Jaime shrugged, eyes scanning the options. “I mean, I sorta feel like coming into a place like this means root beer float or bust, no offense.”

“That works.” Bart snapped the menu shut, handing it back to the hostess and placing the order.

Jaime pulled out his wallet.

“Oh!” Bart rummaged around in his pocket, triumphantly pulling out the twenty dollar bill he still had left over from the money Jay’d given him at the beginning of the week.

For once, he was _glad_ he hadn’t restocked the supply of Chicken Whizzees he usually kept in the pantry at the Hub yet. (Nevermind that the reason for that wasn’t _thinking ahead_ so much as it was _accidentally_ _forgetting to move the money from these shorts to his jeans_. Details, shmetails.)

“I’ve got this one,” he continued, handing the money over before Jaime could protest.

Jaime paused mid-motion, watching with a funny look on his face as the hostess handed Bart his change.

Bart supposed he couldn’t blame him for being surprised—Jaime always paid. Bart was the one that invited him, though. He could pull his weight for once. He raised an eyebrow at him challengingly but Jaime didn’t make any further comment. In fact, he must’ve realized his staring had been rude (Bianca was always on him about _manners)_ because he looked a little embarrassed as he held Bart’s gaze.

“Thanks, chiquito,” he murmured. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bart interrupted him with a wave. “I owed you one anyway, if it makes you feel any better.”

Amusement stole over Jaime’s face. _“One?”_

“Okay fine, _at least_ one,” Bart amended. “Whatever. Point being, don’t worry about it.”

They left happily slurping up their frozen treats through wide, plastic straws stuck into their to-go cups, walking side by side along the star-studded pavement beneath the arching fronds of poorly illuminated palm trees.

Bart chatted aimlessly about anything that sprang to mind, noting triumphantly that Jaime finally looked at ease again. Glad to be back in their usual groove, he was _just_ starting to think _‘mission accomplished,’_ when Jaime’s hand shot out to yank Bart to his side by the hip.

Bart startled, realizing too late that he’d been so busy talking that he’d nearly walked smack into a group of dressed-up, laughing bar-goers. Whoops. Heart racing, he tripped over his words into silence as he noted that Jaime’s hand was still there, warming Bart’s side through the thin fabric of his shirt and lingering a beat too long before releasing him.

His face was burning and he could only hope that Jaime didn’t notice.

“Oops,” Bart laughed nervously at himself. “Thanks. Wasn’t paying attention.”

“No kidding,” Jaime teased, turning the top of Bart’s head to make him face-forward. “Supposed to keep your eyes on the road, correcaminos.”

Bart scoffed, ducking away as Jaime ruffled his hair. “Hey, they were swaying into _my_ path!”

“Uh huh.”

“They were! It wasn’t just me!”

Jaime shook his head, slurping up the dregs of his drink as he slid an arm around Bart’s neck and squished him into a side hug. Bart’s insides warmed, butterflies flitting through his stomach.

He loved Jaime-hugs of all varieties, but he couldn’t help the way his belly went extra swoopy over the flex of Jaime’s arm by his cheek, the smooth curve of Jaime’s bicep pressing into his ear and the fabric of Jaime’s hoodie soft along his jaw. Automatically, his arm rose in a practiced motion to circle Jaime’s back, the other shooting up to return the hug, squeezing him briefly back. Jaime made a noise of complaint over being squashed so tightly, and Bart couldn’t help but laugh.

Their eyes met as Bart grinned up at him. It was a minor miracle he didn’t trip over his feet—walking while hugging difficult enough as it was _without_ the sudden mini heart attack seizing in his chest as their gazes locked, Jaime’s rich, dark eyes so close to his.

They glanced away at the same time, a bolt of awkwardness wedging between them as their arms returned to their respective sides in a movement they both tried and failed to make casual.

Jaime’s hand slotted back into his hoodie pocket. Bart stared at the terrazzo and brass beneath his feet.

After a few excruciating seconds Jaime finally spoke up again. “Do you think they made it back okay?”

“Hm?” Bart looked up.

“The other us.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Bart shrugged, tossing his empty milkshake cup into the trash as he passed by. “I don’t see why not. They seemed pretty confident about whatever they told Tim to do.”

Jaime handed his empty cup over to Bart as well so he could toss it. “Right.” He seemed to want to say something else, but the words didn’t come, plunging them back into an uncomfortable silence.

Bart sighed inwardly. So much for mission accomplished.

Just as Bart started to round the corner onto the long, winding street that led back to the Hub, he noticed Jaime’s pace begin to slow, his body falling away from Bart’s side.

“Uh—” Jaime caught Bart’s wrist, stopping altogether. Bart paused, turning to look at him. “I... _mierda, no lo sé_ ,” Jaime muttered under his breath. “I have no idea how to talk about this, so can I just be real with you for a second?”

Bart’s heart stuttered. He tilted his head nonchalantly anyway.

“Sure, Blue. What’s on your mind?”

Jaime looked worried, and suddenly Bart was relieved Jaime hadn’t grabbed for his hand because seeing _Jaime_ this nervous made _his_ palms start to sweat, too.

“I just—promise not to get mad at me first, okay?” Jaime entreated, looking earnestly into Bart’s eyes.

Bart’s stomach froze over.

“Well _yeesh_ , say that a little more ominously, why don’t you—” he quipped, steeling himself.

“— _Bart.”_

“Okay, okay. I promise. What?”

He made himself ask even though he didn’t want to know. Because, if Jaime didn’t _say it,_ at least Bart could keep pretending. Could keep imagining what it’d be like to maybe one day be able to hold his hand like that. The way the older versions of them did.

That _was_ what this was about. Right? What else could it be? It wasn’t exactly rocket science to figure that out. Bart had tried to smooth things over, to play the whole thing off, but it hadn’t worked. Jaime was thinking about it again, and now he wanted to _talk._

Jaime glanced down at Bart’s other wrist, reaching out gently for it so that he was clasping both. His hands slid down, but only enough to cover the heels of Bart’s palms. He was standing close enough that he was in Bart’s space but not close enough to make Bart think this could possibly go the way he hoped.

Bart schooled his expression. He had promised, after all.

Jaime exhaled heavily through his nose. “Look, I...this is probably gonna make me sound like a complete pendejo, but what happened earlier...it honestly kinda blindsided me? And I’m not saying this isn’t nice, because obviously you know I love hanging out with you, but I think maybe jumping right into a date was—”

Bart’s brain screeched to a halt, heart racing.

“A what?” he squeaked as Jaime said, “maybe not the best—”

They both went silent, eyes wide.

“What?” Jaime asked.

“This was a _date?”_ Bart asked, flabbergasted.

Jaime stared at him for a moment, then horror dawned slowly over his face.

“Uhh—”

“Dudewhydidn’tyoutellmethisissonotcrashIdidn’teven _change!”_ Bart flailed, ears burning as he yanked his hands up out of Jaime’s grip to cover his face.

“I—what— _y-you_ asked me!” Jaime spluttered, sounding panicked.

Bart lowered his hands.

“I did?” he asked, perplexed.

Even if he _didn’t_ have an eidetic memory, he was pretty sure he would have remembered _that!_ Had he somehow done it by accident? Maybe he knew even less about dating than he thought.

“...Yes?” Jaime answered. He sounded precisely _zero_ percent sure about that, and was looking more stricken by the second. “I—we went to a diner?”

“Yeah?” Bart was even more perplexed now. “We do that all the time?”

“But you _paid!_ ”

“I had extra allowance!”

“You never even have your _regular_ allowance!”

“Hey!”

Jaime ran a hand across his face. “Hold up, so you really just...wanted a milkshake?”

Bart’s cheeks burned. “I mean, I wanted a milkshake _with you,_ but...yes?”

Even in the dark and with Jaime’s complexion, Bart could still see the flush rising on his face.

“ _Well,_ I’m gonna go walk into traffic now,” Jaime said, turning on his heel.

Bart whooshed into his path, shaking with laughter as he shot his arms out to catch Jaime around the middle, stopping him in his tracks.

 _“Jai-me._ Oh my _god!_ ” he giggled, mortified, into his shoulder. Jaime leaned away a little but didn’t try to escape, too busy dragging his hood as far as he could over his face and holding it in place.

“Are you telling me this _whole time_ you thought this was a date? _Wait_ , more important—you thought _I asked you_ _on a date_ and you said _yes?”_

“Man, I don’t know!” Jaime groaned, muffled. “I panicked! I thought seeing older us all, y’know, _together_ like that made you realize you liked me or something, so you just went for it!”

Bart lifted his head, still laughing. “Blue, I asked you because I thought you were weirded out about it and I was afraid you’d start avoiding me if I didn’t do something to make it less awkward!”

Jaime lowered his arms away from his face. “Oh.”

For one tiny word, Jaime sure managed to convey just how _very, very_ stupid he felt—which was _not_ crash. He still couldn’t believe Jaime’d said _yes_ to going on a date with him! If he’d known it was that easy, he would have done it ages ago!

Bart let go of him and took a step back, but tilted his head into Jaime’s line of sight, butterflies filling his stomach.

“Jaime.” The other boy reluctantly met his gaze. Bart summoned his bravery as best he could. “Did you _want_ this to be a date?”

Jaime’s blush deepened as he glanced away, rubbing his neck.

“I...didn’t really get that far. In terms of thinking about that, I mean,” he said sheepishly. “That’s what I was trying to explain. I’ve had no idea _what_ to think since the older us left. They seemed just like us though, and they seemed happy, so. I figured maybe older me knew something I didn’t.”

“Wow, _rude,”_ Bart chided. “So you only said yes because you thought you were _supposed to?_ ”

“Ay, dios, come on. I’m not _that_ big of a jerk,” Jaime said, lightly kicking Bart's shoe. “¿Eres mi mejor amigo, sí? I _thought_ you were asking to give it a try, so...I didn’t want to be closed minded about it and hurt your feelings just because the idea was new to me. And I figured maybe doing this might clear things up for me or something.”

“Oh,” Bart said, trying not to sound too hopeful. His heart warmed like it always did when Jaime called him his best friend, but there was an ache beneath it, too, his insides squirming with nerves. “Um, did it?”

“...Not really,” Jaime mumbled apologetically.

Bart’s stomach sank.

He inhaled, putting on a brave face.

“Well, no sweat it, Blue,” Bart hip checked him with a smile, sliding Jaime’s arm around his neck again and patting his forearm. “That’s easily the sweetest way I’ve ever been rejected from a not-date, so I’ll only go home and cry about it a _little bit.”_

He was only _kind of_ kidding, but Jaime didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, cállate,” Jaime said fondly. “Don’t make me beat your skinny ass with those civilians back there as my witness.”

He immediately undercut that threat by scooping Bart around in front of him to wrap him in a proper hug. Bart returned it, tucking the bridge of his nose by the warm line of Jaime’s neck. Jaime always smelled so _nice,_ and the steady squeeze of his arms was comforting, engulfing Bart’s back in welcome pressure. Maybe it was a little bittersweet, but...he supposed he could learn to live with that.

“Wait," Jaime straightened and pulled back a bit, as if a thought had just occurred to him, “back up—did _you_ like the idea of this being a date? Once I said that, I mean.”

For a fraction of a second Bart froze, but thankfully Jaime didn’t seem to notice.

Recovering quickly, he shot him a rueful grin. “Not in _this_ outfit,” he joked, dodging the question.

“Bart,” Jaime complained softly with a look that implied _‘hey,_ I _was honest with_ you.’

It was Bart’s turn to feel sheepish. He glanced down with a shrug.

“I mean, I thought you were straight,” he mumbled, a half-admission. Jaime snorted.

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”

Bart couldn’t help huffing another laugh at that, quietly this time, as he ducked his head. Jaime’s lips started to quirk up, too, as he circled his arms around Bart again.

“Right now, I think you can just count me down as confused,” Jaime said tiredly, resting his chin on Bart’s head. “I think I need more than a couple _hours_ to process all this, ¿sabes?”

“That’s okay,” Bart murmured into Jaime’s hoodie, squeezing him around the middle.

...Maybe he was just grasping at straws but, ‘confused’ wasn’t necessarily a ‘no,’ right? Then again, maybe he was being a bit of a jerk, making this all about _his_ feelings when Jaime’s were clearly so mixed up.

“Hey,” he added with a gentle poke, looking up at him. “Y’know you’re still my favorite person, right? Hermanos or otherwise. As for the rest of it, I’d say we have plenty of time to figure stuff out.”

Jaime’s gaze softened. “Thanks, guepardito,” he murmured, cocking Bart’s head to the side with a playful knock of his knuckles against Bart’s jaw. Then, to Bart’s surprise, he leaned in and smooshed his lips, light and teasing, into Bart’s cheek.

Face instantly on fire, Bart sped backward a foot on instinct with an undignified squeak, hiding behind his hands.

 _“Jaime!”_ he sputtered, muffled into his palms. “You can’t just—what the heck!”

Jaime burst into quiet laughter.

“Oh my god, you _do_ like me,” Jaime teased through his giggles, following after Bart and squeezing him again.

“What _ever,_ shut up!” Bart groaned into Jaime’s shaking shoulders.

Jaime caught his breath, calming his laughter. “Lo siento, correcaminos, I didn’t mean to shock—”

Bart lifted his head and, in one determined swoop, surged up on tiptoe to crush his lips to Jaime’s. Two could play at this game, dang it!

The rest of Jaime’s sentence was lost to a noise of surprise. Bart’s chest swelled victoriously.

Ha! That’ll show _him_ for trying to out-smooch a speedster.

Just as he was all ready to pull back, smug as could be, his stomach bottomed out as it hit him.

Oh.

Oh shit.

_OhholyfreakingshithejustkissedJaime!_

The sound of Bart breaking the kiss seemed embarrassingly loud, his heart galloping along at panicked speeds as he looked wide-eyed up into Jaime’s surprised face.

For a moment they merely stared at each other, red-faced and vaguely shell-shocked.

“Uh,” Bart floundered. “S-sorry, I—”

Jaime cupped his cheek and leaned down, mouth reconnecting with his. Bart’s heart tripped over itself, breath catching in his throat.

 _Oh,_ this kiss was so much better.

Jaime still tasted like root beer. He hadn’t been able to tell before, with the way he’d smashed their mouths together, but he could now with Jaime kissing him so much gentler like this, lips soft against his.

 _Ohman_ kissing him felt _so_ crash.

Dazed, Bart opened his eyes slowly as Jaime pulled away, his chest full and warm.

“Um, wow,” he breathed, barely a whisper. Jaime swallowed thickly, gaze lingering on Bart’s mouth a beat too long before rising to meet his eyes.

Regaining self awareness in the same moment, they broke simultaneously into quiet, embarrassed giggles, tightening the grip of their hug as they hid in each other’s necks.

“I have a feeling this wasn’t how the other us got together,” Jaime joked as he rose away from Bart’s collar.

Bart lifted his head as well, brow raised. “You implying it _is_ how we do?”

He broke down into giggles again at the look on Jaime’s face.

“...Let’s put a pin in that for now, okay?” Jaime said sheepishly. “This has kinda been a lot all at once.”

Bart pursed his lips, hope bubbling in his chest.

“Sounds crash,” he said, gently pulling away. He snorted again as he started walking in the direction of the Hub. “I still can’t believe you thought I’d take you out for _milkshakes_ for our first date!”

Jaime flushed, falling into step beside him again. “¿Por qué no? They’re your favorite! People do that!”

“That’s my point!” Bart scoffed. “We already do that _all_ the time! I’d be much more creative! It’d be so crash, and it would be something we _haven’t_ done.”

Jaime shook his head but he was smiling.

“Well _excuse me_ for thinking milkshakes were the peak of your love language,” he said, bumping Bart’s shoulder lightly with his own.

Bart smiled shyly at the ground, bumping him back.

“Hey, speaking of that—as in, language stuff—what did the older you say that had you so moded, anyway?”

“Ay, dios,” Jaime muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t worry about it right now, Bart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
>  _No pasa nada_ \- It's all good.  
>  _Guepard(it)o_ \- (Little) cheetah  
>  _Mierda, no lo sé_ \- Shit, I don't know.  
>  _Pendejo_ \- idiot/asshole  
>  _Dudewhydidn’tyoutellmethisissonotcrashIdidn’tevenchange!_ \- Dude why didn’t you tell me, this is so not crash, I didn’t even change!  
>  _¿Eres mi mejor amigo, sí?_ \- You're my best friend, yeah?  
>  _Cállate_ \- Shut up  
>  _¿Sabes?_ \- You know?  
>  _Lo siento_ \- I'm sorry  
>  _Correcaminos_ \- Roadrunner  
>  _OhholyfreakingshithejustkissedJaime!_ \- Oh holy freaking shit he just kissed Jaime!  
>  _¿Por qué no?_ \- Why not?
> 
> What disasters, honestly, lmao. Hope that lived up to your expectations Bright_Elen! XD
> 
> (Comments fuel my soul, let me know if y'all enjoyed!)


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